


Red Flags

by WrittenTrash



Category: The Venture Bros
Genre: Age Difference, Choking Kink, Daddy Kink, Dubious Consent, M/M, No Beta, PWP, Rough Sex, Spanking, Underage Drinking, all the red flags man, and yet..., dean is a bit of a spoiled brat, for VBKinkMeme on LiveJournal, i say teen in this but dean is like 18 or 19, self harm mention, sex while drunk, so brock is going to put him in his place, speaking of drinking, this is not a healthy way to cope, write drunk edit drunker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:36:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25171738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrittenTrash/pseuds/WrittenTrash
Summary: Dean has been on a downward spiral and Brock is going to get to the bottom of whatever is going on. Things don't turn out how he expected when he ends up in bed with the depressed Venture boy.
Relationships: Brock Samson/Dean Venture
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Red Flags

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a bit too late for the VBKinkMeme, last entry on livejournal I think was like 2016? 2018? But I still love the show and the fandom could really use some more content. Anyway, Brock/Dean has been a prompt for like years and no one has done it. Which is just terrible. What a missed opportunity. 100% Dean would act up to get Brock's attention because Brock seems to favor Hank and Rusty is terrible.

Brock saw the red flags from a mile away. 

Dean had become more rebellious: dying his hair, painting his nails, wearing nothing but black, lashing out at Rusty, distancing himself from his family. It tugged at Brock’s heart strings, watching the boy he practically raised become somebody he didn’t recognize. And it pained him that he couldn’t do anything about it. Brock’s hands were tied because of O.S.I. Brock had to trust that Sergeant Hatred and Rusty knew what they were doing.

Brock flicked on the CCTV and watched as a black and white X-1 pulled out of the hanger and took off. He could just barely make out Dean as he leaned against the hanger entrance. The boy watched the rest of his family leave before he shrugged and turned back inside.

Brock sighed heavily and rubbed his face. They had no idea what they were doing. The kid was on a downward spiral and was left totally alone. Brock switched the CCTV back off. He decided he’d have to make an effort to check in on the boy later.

…

Later turned out to be eleven at night.

Brock had finished his last mission for the night and was dismissed by Gathers. The older man waved him off and told Brock to get some rest. Instead, Brock slipped out and made his way to the Venture compound. 

It was a relief to not have to hide his presence from the Venture family anymore. Brock had missed being able to just walk through the front door. “Dean?” Brock called out as he entered the seemingly empty house. Brock hadn’t seen the teen leave the compound, so it was presumed Dean was still in the house somewhere.

Brock continued to wander the large house until he heard the telltale sound of metal scraping against metal coming from the lab.

“Dean?” Brock called, entering the lab. The boy had forgone his speed-suit and instead was dressed in sweatpants and a wife beater. He noticed the teen hunched over several blueprints. Metal plates, wrenches, and a blow torch was by the boy’s side. Brock was pleasantly surprised to see Dean doing something… science-y. It reminded Brock of the boy Dean used to be. Sort of. The teen had come a long way from making shrinky dinks to building machinery.

“Hey, uh…. Champ… you build that?”

Dean glanced at him a moment before scoffing, “What’s it look like?”

Brock reeled back and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. He hadn’t been expecting the remark. He had seen the boys lash out at their father before, but it was never undeserved. And they _never_ lashed out at him.

“Oookay,” Brock drawled, “I saw your dad and brother left with Hatred--”

“An’ H.E.L.P.eR,”

“Huh?”

Dean sighed heavily, as though it was an effort to say more than five words. He turned to face Brock fully and repeated loudly, “H.E.L.P.eR.” He turned a defiant stare back to the metal he was currently screwing together. “He left a few hours ago. I was tryin’ to help ‘em. Build a new body, you know? Then he just… left.”

“Right… you-- uh-- you didn’t want to go with them?” Brock asked.

Dean snorted, “Pfft, oh yeah! I’m really missin’ out! Great ad-venture with Hatred an-- and Pop! I sure am sore.” The sarcasm dripped off every word. Dean huffed out a strained chuckle to himself.

Brock bristled at the attitude. He was ready to let it slide, because of the clear help Dean needed, but he had reached his limit. “Whoa! Hey, what’s with the attitude?” Brock shot back.

Dean glanced at him for a moment before huffing and turning away. Brock felt his anger rise once more. He stalked over to Dean, unsure of what he was going to do to the boy, but ready to do something. His foot hit something solid and there was the clatter of glass against concrete. Brock glanced down and picked up the bottle he had accidentally kicked.

Turning the empty bottle Brock gaped at the label. It was gin. Brock suddenly felt foolish at not noticing earlier. The more Dean had talked, the more clear a slur had become.

“You’re drunk,” Brock stated.

“I’m not drunk,” Dean shot back childishly. He still ignored the older man and continued on H.E.L.P.eR’s new body. Brock noticed Dean’s hands fumbled with every turn of the wrench.

“So, you didn’t drink this whole bottle of gin?” Brock asked, shaking the empty glass bottle in his hand.

Dean rolled his eyes and looked at Brock with narrowed eyes. “Don’t be stupid, that’s the good stuf’. Ol’ Rusty would never have a full bottle of _that_ lyin’ around. There was only a little bit left,” Dean slurred. He stared Brock dead in the eyes as he lifted a half empty bottle of vodka to his lips. “This was full though,” Dean muttered into the bottle.

“Enough,” Brock snapped. He crossed over to the drunk teen in a single step and snatched the boy’s forearm. Brock pulled Dean up to his feet, the glass bottle slipped from the boy’s fingers and shattered against the floor. “What the hell is your problem?” Brock growled, shaking the boy.

“What do you care?! You’re not even my bodyguard anymore,” Dean yelled back leering into Brock’s face.

Brock closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He would _not_ deck one of the boys… even if they were acting like a spoiled brat. He opened his eyes and glared back into Dean’s own defiant glare. “That’s it, you’re going to bed,” Brock said.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Dean whined, as he struggled against Brock’s iron grip.

“Watch me.” Brock threw Dean over his shoulder like the boy weighted nothing and made his way through the house. Dean beat his fists fruitlessly against Brock's back and kicked his legs. When no response came he gave up.

Brock made his way to the boys’ bedroom and threw open the door. He was shocked to see there was only one bed now. “What the…?”

As though he only now cared about what was going on, Dean looked around and sneered, “I’m not a little kid. Me an’ Hank don’t share a room anymore,”

“Fine, where’s your bedroom?”

“The attic. If you were around more, maybe you’d know that,” Dean muttered the last part, but not quiet enough for the comment to slip by the older man. Brock slammed the door shut a little more forceful than necessary and marched upstairs to the attic. Dean’s new bedroom was a surprise to say the least. The decor looked like something right out of The Craft. Definitely not the Dean he used to read bedtime stories to.

Brock tossed Dean onto his bed like the boy was a sack of potatoes. He crossed his arms and stood over the mattress, staring at the boy. Dean was doing his best to stare a hole in the ceiling.

“What is going on with you, man?” Brock demanded.

“Nothing you’d know about,” Dean shot back.

“That’s it,” Brock snapped, sitting himself at the foot of the bed. He grabbed Dean’s leg and pulled the boy over his knees. “You wanna act like a brat, you’re gonna be treated like a brat,” Brock threatened. Dean protested and yelped as Brock yanked down the teen’s sweatpants. He reeled back his arm and swung forward, landing a harsh smack on Dean’s bare ass.

“Ahh!” Dean yelped. Brock brought his hand back and landed another merciless smack. Dean struggled and kicked, but Brock’s hold was unyielding. All the boy could do was squirm and whine as he was spanked. Every smack left a residual sting, only fading slightly before he was hit again.

Tears stung at Dean’s eyes. He bit his lip to hold back his cries, but after a few seconds tears began to stream down his face. He jerked and spasmed his hips every time Brock’s firm hand met his bare bottom, but he refused to beg.

“You--” _smack_ “are a little--” _smack_ “spoiled--” _smack_ “brat!” Brock growled in between spanks. Brock didn’t expect a moaned response. Brock’s hand froze in midair. He felt all the air leave his lungs and the world around him freeze. Dean rag-dolled against Brock’s lap as he gasped for breath. Only then did Brock notice something hard poking into his thigh.

Before Brock knew what happened, Dean was straddling his hips and pushing his lips against his own. “Mmf!” Brock grunted against the boy’s lips. The kiss was sloppy and rough. Dean’s tongue ran over Brock’s own and the boy bucked his hips against Brock’s groin. Suddenly, Brock felt like ice water had been dumped all over him as he realized what happened. He flipped their position so that he could pin Dean to the bed beneath them, he pushed the boy’s shoulders into the bed to keep him still.

Brock had the lingering taste of a bad cocktail on his tongue. “What the fuck?” Brock squawked, staring down at the boy beneath him. Dean’s eyes were wide and there was a deep flush across his cheeks. His slightly bruised lips were slightly parted. Brock hated himself as he felt his cock twitch to life.

“Fuck me,” Dean said.

“Wha-- no!” Brock immediately said.

“Please,” Dean begged, as he struggled against Brock’s grasp. “P-please, Brock! I-- I need it. I need something! Someone! I need someone to think I’m worthwhile,” Dean babbled, tears beginning to shine in his eyes.

“Dean,” Brock warned.

“You-- you always made me feel so safe,” Dean gave a breathy laugh. “I trust you,” he continued. “I trust you to fuck me as hard as you can and not hurt me. Fuck my brains out, Brock!”

“Stop saying that,” Brock groaned. Brock hated himself as he felt a warm pressure in his lower abdomen. He could feel himself become hard as he watched Dean’s lips form such vulgar words. He only wanted to check up on the teen. He wanted to make sure that Dean was okay. Taking advantage of the boy while he was drunk and desperate was _not_ what Brock had planned. Never had he felt so dirty.

Dean’s eyes were half lidded. He made a point to slowly form each and every syllable as he said slowly and clearly, “Punish me, Daddy.”

Brock slammed his mouth against Dean’s own as he passionately kissed the drunk boy. He nipped and pulled at Dean’s lower lip, biting harder than he would on any woman. Dean groaned at the abuse and rocked his hips against the bulge in Brock’s pants.

Brock’s lips left Dean’s as the older man sucked and bit down on Dean’s slender neck. “Oh, Daddy,” Dean moaned. Brock continued to move down the boy’s body. He pushed up Dean’s shirt and licked and kissed down Dean’s chest and stomach. The teen’s hips spasamed in clear eagerness.

“Off-- take off your clothes,” Dean moaned, pawing at Brock’s uniform. Brock was all too eager to oblige. He threw off his uniform and tossed it to the corner of the room. He turned back to the bed, but saw Dean wasn’t underneath him anymore. 

“Where--” Brock was cut off as Dean pushed the older man onto his back. Before Brock could realize what was happening, Dean pulled down the man’s underwear and wrapped his lips around the head of the man’s cock. Brock groaned but held back form thrusting into Dean’s hot, wet mouth. He was well aware of how well endowed he was and he didn’t want to gag the boy.

Dean sucked on the head of Brock’s cock, bobbing his head slightly and licking at the slit of his cock. Dean groaned around the penis and Brock felt a shiver go down his spine. Brock watched his cock stretch Dean’s mouth and spit drip down his manhood. Brock’s hips jerked forward. He moaned as his cock brushed the back of Dean’s throat. Dean immediately reeled back and dropped the cock from his mouth.

Brock groaned at the loss of warmth, but didn’t press Dean to continue. After a moment of gasping for air, Dean leaned forward to look into Brock’s eyes. “I want you to face fuck me,” Dean demanded. 

“Dean, you’ve never done this before,” Brock reminded the boy. He knew the injuries someone could get from going too fast too quickly.

“You don’t know that,” Dean challenged. The thought of someone touching Dean that way, sent a wave of possessiveness through him. “Choke me with your cock, Daddy. Use me however you want,” Dean moaned, raking his nails down Brock’s chest.

Unable to take the teasing, Brock grabbed a fistful of Dean’s hair and pushed the boy’s head onto his cock. He moaned as he pushed his manhood down Dean’s throat. He heard the boy gag and choke. A part of Brock wanted to let go and apologize to Dean, but a low moan around his cock stopped Brock from letting go of Dean’s hair. Brock threw back his head as he thrusted his hips.

“Oh, fuck,” Brock moaned. Blunt nails scraped down Brock's thighs and his hips jerked in response. Brock forced his eyes open to watch his cock bulge Dean’s slender neck. He stuttered a moan and after a few more thrusts he held Dean’s head firmly down. The boy's nose brushed against Brock’s abdomen and his hands struggled against Brock’s legs. Finally, Brock shot hot cum down the boy’s throat. 

He was tempted to hold Dean’s head on his cock as he rode through his orgasam, but knew that would be pushing the boy too far. Brock let go of Dean’s hair and the boy ripped himself off of Brock’s massive cock. Dean gagged and coughed from the abuse. It took a few moments to catch his breath and blink away the tears in his eyes.

Once he caught his breath, Dean leaned back on his knees and looked down at Brock hungrily. The boy licked his lips, taking in the last drops of cum that was left on his mouth. Brock could feel his dick already try to twitch back to life at the sight. “Hope you weren’t expecting just one round,” Dean challenged.

In response, Brock flipped Dean underneath him and sucked at Dean’s neck again. The teen’s breath hitched as Brock bit and sucked on his skin. Brock continued to travel south, his rough hands spread apart Dean’s legs. Brock began to place hickies on Dean’s inner thighs. He felt a raised patch of skin and closer inspected the area. He noticed a row of shallow straight cuts running down the inside of both of Dean’s thighs. Noticing the absence of attention, Dean propped himself up on his elbows to see what happened. 

Seeing Brock stare at the self-harm scars on his legs, Dean suddenly felt self-conscious. Dean tried to clamp his legs close, but Brock’s large hands held his legs in place. Brock chanced a look up and saw shame on Dean’s face. A second later, Brock went back to worshiping Dean’s legs, kissing them up and down and sucking at the soft flesh. Dean moaned Brock’s name and rocked his hips forward. Brock had been actively ignoring Dean’s ridge cock.

“T-touch me! Please, Daddy! I want you to touch me,” Dean moaned, his hips jerking for any friction at all.

“Not so fast, don’t forget, you’re being punished,” Brock teased.

Dean whimpered and grabbed at Brock’s strong arms. Dean’s cock was already leaking precum. The head of his cock was almost purple with need. “Such a good boy,” Brock praised, tracing his hands down the boy’s body. Dean’s breath hitched as Brock rubbed his hands up and down his inner thigh. He fingers brushed against Dean’s dick. 

“Tell me how bad you want it,” Brock demanded.

“I need you,” Dean gasped. “I need you to fuck me into the mattress like a doll. I don’t want to be able to walk for a week. Please, Daddy! Fuck me until I forget my name! Put your massive cock inside me!” Dean begged.

Brock threw one of Dean’s legs over his shoulder and positioned himself at Dean’s entrance. He pushed the head of his slick cock into Dean’s hole gently. Dean grabbed at the bed sheets and whined as he was stretched open. Brock stopped and waited for Dean to adjust. When the boy gave him a nod, Brock pulled his hips back slightly and pushed himself further into the boy than he was before.

Brock rocked his hips in rhythm with Dean rocking his own hips back. The rhythm was slow at first but as Dean moaned encouragement, Brock began to thrust deeper and faster.

“O-oh! Oh, Brock!” Dean moaned, throwing his head back. Brock became engrossed with watching Dean become undone. The boy writhed and screamed with pleasure. For the first time that day, Brock was thankful that the rest of the family was gone as the boy underneath him screamed as loud as he could.

The bed creaked protest as Dean was pushed against the headboard with every thrust. “Oh, Daddy! More!” Dean moaned. Brock pulled all the way out and pushed Dean onto his back. Dean wrapped his legs around Brock’s waist and pulled the older man closer. 

Brock thrusted hard into Dean, grunting as he did. He panted as he moved inside the boy. Dean’s moans were cut off as Brock grabbed his windpipe. He was careful to squeeze just enough to cut off some airway, but not enough to make him pass out. Dean’s hips spasmed.

“Cum inside me, Daddy,” Dean wheezed.

It only took a few more thrusts before Brock was pushed over the edge. Brock pressed down more fully on Dean’s throat until the boy couldn’t breath. His other hand grabbed Dean’s hip hard enough to bruise. Dean spasmed as he came hard, spurts of hot sticky liquid spilled all over his and Brock’s stomachs. Brock continued to thrust as Dean’s body convulsed around him. Brock shuttered as he came harder than he ever had in months.

Brock took his hand off Dean’s throat and the boy groaned in pleasure. A few more spurts of cum spilled onto him. Brock collapsed next to the boy and tried to catch his breath. 

“T-thanks, Brock,” Dean sighed, “I really needed that.” Dean wiped the sweat from his brow and pushed his bangs back.

“Yeah, just… uh,” Brock drawled, “don’t tell your dad.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Dean said.


End file.
